


A Shot in the Dark

by EscapeTheVault



Series: Highborn [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Skyrim
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 02:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17674745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EscapeTheVault/pseuds/EscapeTheVault
Summary: Zenotha hears a rumor about a boy named Avetus Aretino, and the rest is literally history.





	A Shot in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Graphic warning for blood and murder.

“Rumor has it that Aretino boy in Windhelm has been performing the Black Sacrament.” Hulda furrowed her brow. “My cousin sent me a letter about it the other day. I don’t even want to know what the poor boy had to do to get what he needs for it. He’s only a child. Maybe you can talk some sense into the boy.”

“For fucks sake. I cannot get away from this whole mess. I’ve been dodging Dark Brotherhood assassins for a month now. Most of them just lurk and make sure I’m aware of them but I still can’t forget about that first attempt. Maybe if I resolve this they’ll leave me alone. Or send someone actually capable of finishing the job.” Zenotha rolled her eyes dramatically. “Let me go grab Faendal and I’ll see what I can do.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * 

“Here we are, Windhelm. You know, it’s the oldest human city in Skyrim.” Bjorlam grinned. “Good luck with the Aretino boy.”

“Thanks, Bjorlam.” Zenotha jumped down from the carriage, with Faendal right behind her. 

“I sure hope you know what you’re doing getting involved in this,” Faendal muttered. “I’m pretty sure this is just going to make it all worse.”

“I’m sure they already know I’m getting involved. I didn’t tell Bjorlam anything about why we’re here and he even knew. Word apparently travels fast in Skyrim. Hopefully this time it works to our advantage. Well, my advantage. I’m pretty sure you’re free and clear.” She pulled her hair back from her face and pushed her helmet down. She tucked her amulet of Julianos into her armor with a sigh. 

The bridge leading to the main gate of Windhelm was icy and a little treacherous. A couple of times, she hit ice patches at just the wrong angle and almost lost her balance. ‘Man, I really need to get used to all this ice and snow or it won’t be the Dark Brotherhood that takes me out.’ she thought. The guards at the end of the bridge pushed one of the massive doors open to reveal more of the same stonework…. And the same icy ground. Zenotha could see a couple of Nords shouting at a Dunmer woman just inside. She could only make out a few words from as far away as they were, but it was clear that then men were accusing the woman of being an Imperial spy. 

“Mmmm nothing like a town full of good-ole-fashioned racists.” She glanced over at Faendal. “If they treat the Dunmer like that, I can’t wait to see how they’ll react to an Altmer.”

Sure enough, almost the exact minute they passed through the gates, the two Nords turned their angry gazes towards her. She smirked at them antagonistically. “My name is Zenotha Aedius. Tell me, my good men. Where can I find Elda Early-Dawn? I have business with the fair lady.”

“My name’s Rolff Stone-Fist, and if you actually have business with Elda, I’ll eat my hat.” He sneered at her. “Elda’s got no need for business with your kind.”

“My kind?” Zenotha feigned ignorance. “You must mean sell-swords? I’m not really a sell-sword per se, though I have been known to take odd jobs here and there. No, I have business with her regard the Aventino boy. You know, the one performing the Black Sacrament? I’m here to visit with him.”

Rolff paled. His companion started backing away.

“She‘s in the inn.” He nodded in the general direction of Candlehearth Hall. “You’d best not be dragging her into your Brotherhood nonsense.” 

“I thank you, sir.” She grinned. Then she walked briskly towards the inn.

“Did you seriously just impersonate a member of the Dark Brotherhood?” Faendal hissed at her.

“No. A silly, ignorant man made a wild assumption and I failed to correct him.” She threw open the inn door dramatically. The men at the bar turned and looked at her warily. A woman that had to be Elda threw down her bar rag.

“And what is this all about?” she asked with obvious distaste and a sneer. Zenotha strode across the room.

“I’m here regarding the letter you sent your cousin Hulda in Whiterun regarding the Aretino boy. Aventus, I believe his name is?” She looked between Elda and the three men- as the three men stood and walked away from the bar/ Elda looked mildly panicked for a brief moment. “Would you kindly point me in the direction of the boy’s house? I’d like to resolve this as soon as possible.”

Elda looked her up and down. Her gaze rested on Ruin’s Edge and she crinkled her nose. ‘Maybe having a bow with a blinking eyeball won’t be such a bad thing’ she thought. ‘I’m not sure if this thing is actually Daedric or not but it definitely at least looks like it.’

“Go out the door you entered through and turn left. Take the next left and walk until you see a house that bridges over the walkway. That’s the Aretino house. Poor boy was recently orphaned. The city would certainly be grateful if you helped him, even if you are a Thalmor.’ Elda’s whole face contorted with disgust.

“I’m not…,” she stopped herself and exhaled angrily. She took her bow off her back and Elda flinched. ‘Chickenshit Nord’’ she thought. She waved for Faendal to follow her and stormed out of the inn.

“A guard might get worried. A woman approaches with a weapon.” Zenotha stopped short and glared in the direction of the voice. It was a Windhelm guard, of course, and she could feel the smugness even through the helmet covering his face.

“Piss off,” she grumbled. Faendal let out his trademark groan. She elbowed him. “Let’s go.”

She put her bow back on her back. Dirty snow crunched under their feet. It echoed around them as they approached the Aretino house. A single window was glowing with candlelight. The door was locked when she tried the handle.

“Faendal, keep watch. The door’s locked so I have to pick it. This kid wants the Dark Brotherhood to visit him but can’t even leave his door unlocked. I bet he’s a little twerp.”

“I think that’s a bit of a leap from leaving the door locked. It’s probably locked so the guards don’t drag him off to the orphanage.”

“I like my answer better.” Her knife twisted the locked open with a satisfying click. “I guess we’re about to find out, aren’t we?”

As they walked into the house, they could hear chanting upstairs. “Sweet mother, sweet mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear.”

“Well that’s morbid.”

“Zen, it’s called THE BLACK SACRAMENT. What did you think it would be, a poem about flowers and rainbows?” He dodged her elbow.

“Hello?” The boy’s voice floated down from upstairs.

“Ah, yes. Yes, We’re here. Yes.”

“I knew it would work!” They mounted the stairs and Zenotha was shocked by what she saw. Skeletal remains lay on the floor surrounded by candles, nightshade stems, and a boy about about ten years old. “It worked! I knew you’d come, I just knew it! I did the Black Sacrament over and over. With the body and the… the things. And then you came! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood.”

“Uhhh…” she threw a concerned look at Faendal. ‘Shit,’ she thought. “I’m sorry, boy, but I’m not who you think I am.”

“Of course you are!” Aventus grinned. “I prayed, and you came, and now you’ll accept my contract.”

“Sooooo….” Zenotha forced a smile. “What’s going on then?”

“My mother… she died. I... I’m all alone now. So they sent me to that terrible orphanage in Riften. Honorhall. The headmistress is an evil, cruel woman. They call her Grelod the Kind. But she’s not kind. She’s terrible. To all of us. So I ran away, and came home. And performed the Black Sacrament. Now you’re here! And you can kill Grelod the Kind!.”

“Are you really sure about this?” She frowned. “You understand how serious this is?”

“Yes! I’m sure. She’s mean to my friends there and tells them they’re never going to get adopted and no one wants them.”

“Oh, that is pretty terrible.” Zenotha said. “Well let me see what I can do, alright?”

“Oh, yes! Please!”

“I’ll come back when it’s done.” She tugged on Faendal’s arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

The duo headed down the stairs and out into the cold. Faendal stayed quiet but she could feel the disapproval radiating from him. 

“Listen, I know you’re not a fan of this whole Dark Brotherhood situation but we gotta do something for this kid. He has no one in his corner.”

“So what’s going to happen to him after you kill her? Where’s he going to go?”

“Well…” She paused. “There either has to be another orphanage, or someone else who can step up to run this one. Right?”

“I guess we’re going to find out.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

They approached the orphanage slowly. ‘Act natural’, she thought. She’d killed plenty of people at this point, but the anxiety of knowing she would most definitely have witnesses, and that some of them would most definitely be children, was almost overwhelming. If Aventus was correct, however, the children probably wouldn’t be too upset to see Grelod go. 

“You know, I understand if you don’t want to be part of this, Faendal.” She bit her lip.”This is probably the furthest thing from what you signed on for.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, I can’t fault you for agreeing to take this supposed contract.” Faendal frowned. “It’s already bad enough that these kids are stuck here, they don’t need an insufferable hag making their lives even worse. So let’s just get this over with.”

A pretty young woman exited the orphanage as Zenotha reached for the handle. “Oh, hello! I’m Constance Michel. Grelod is inside with the adoptable children. Go right on in and meet them. I’m going over to the market. I’ll be back in just a bit.”

“Ah...um… thank you. I’ll try to make this quick.” She nodded and waved as the woman walked off. Faendal cleared his throat. “Oi, let’s go.”

They walked into the orphanage quietly. She glanced around quickly- the table was set for five people, but one of the settings was far more and far better food. “That must be Grelod’s setting. She eats tarts and sweet breads while the children get a small serving of plain rice and hard, stale-looking bread.”

“Those who shirk their duties will get an extra beating. Do I make myself clear?” The voice was from an obviously old woman who had to be Grelod.

“Yes, Grelod,” said multiple children in unison.

“And one more thing! I will hear no more talk of adoptions! None of you riff-raff is getting adopted. Nobody needs you, nobody wants you. That, my darlings, is why you’re here. Why you’ll always be here until you come of age and get thrown into that wild, horrible world. Now what do you all say?”

“We love you, Grelod. Thank you for your kindness.” Zenotha emerged around the corner as the children chanted in unison. 

“Yes, Grelod. I’m here to give you a special thank you for your ‘kindness’.” She grinned and sent an ice spike straight through Grelod’s heart. The old woman gasped and blood spurted from her mouth. The children looked from Grelod to Zenotha and Faendal and back again. Grelod grasped at the door frame behind her as she slowly sank to her knees, choking and spitting blood the entire way down. The ice spike in her chest was rapidly melting- by the time anyone found her there would be no sign of the cause of her death. One of the little girls ran up to Zenotha and threw her arms around her.

“Grelod the Kind is dead! Thank you so much, lady!” She took a step back and then skipped back over to join her friends. Grelod glanced up at the children one more time before her eyes went blank. She slumped over onto the floor.

“We gotta go, Zen. Constance Michel is going to be back any minute now.” Faendal grabbed her arm. “NOW. Let’s go.”

The walked briskly out of the orphanage, with the sounds of the children’s laughter ringing behind them. Their timing couldn’t have been better- it looked like Constance Michel was finishing whatever purchase she was making. They ducked between Mistveil Keep and Black-Briar Manor. Nura Snow-Shod glanced up from the Shrine of Talos briefly, but said nothing and went back to her praying. A moment later, chaos broke out in the marketplace. 

“Yep, you’re right. Time to go. Let’s use this distraction while we have it.” She slipped out and watched as the Riften guards ran to the orphanage. Constance Michel was outside, loud and distraught. Zenotha straightened her helmet and calmly stepped out into the main street with Faendal behind her. They managed to pass between the few residents who hadn’t been attracted by the commotion and before long, they’d managed to slip out the front gate. 

“Sigaar! I need your carriage,” she hissed loudly. “We need to get to Windhelm and quickly.”

“Climb in back,” he said. “Do I even want to know wh….”

“Absolutely not.”

“Suits me.” Sigaar shrugged.

The duo climbed into the carriage. Zenotha threw a quick wave at Shadr as they headed out. A guard came running out the front gate as they were almost out of sight, and Zenotha covered the side of her face with her hand. 

Now, to tell the Aretino boy and hopefully be done with this mess.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Zenotha woke with a start. She immediately tensed. She was in dark, strange room with a strange haze that blurred her vision. 

“Sleep well?” The voice was a strange woman. And that woman was in familiar armor- red and black, like the Dark Brotherhood members that had been following her. ‘Shit’, she thought.

“Who are you?”

“Who I am really isn’t as important as what I am. And what I am is an admirer. Of sorts.”

“Well that’s cryptic.” Zenotha rolled her eyes. “Where am I, anyway?”

“Does it matter? You’re warm, dry… and still very much alive. That’s more than can be said for old Grelod. Hmm?”

“Shit. You know about that?”

“Are you kidding? Half of Skyrim knows.” The woman straightened up. “I’m not criticizing. It was a good kill. There’s just one slight... problem.”

“Oh Faendal is going to love this.”

“Hmmm?”

“Nothing, I’m sorry. So what is this problem, exactly?”

“You see, that little Aretino boy was looking for the Dark Brotherhood. For me and my associates. Grelod the Kind was, by all means, a Dark Brotherhood kill. A kill… you stole from us. And a kill you must repay.”

“And you want me to kill someone else?” Zenotha raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Funny you should ask.” The smile was obvious in the woman’s voice, even despite the cowl she was wearing. “If you turn around, you’ll see our guests. One of these guests has a contract out on their life. That person cannot leave this room alive. But which one? You are going to figure out who that person is. I’m just going to observe… and admire.”

“Alright, I’ll do it. I’ll kill one of them.”

“Cowards! Stealing a woman from her home! For shame!” Zenotha whirled around to see three hooded victims. The loudmouth was clearly the woman in the middle. The men on either side remained silent outside of a stray whimper or two. 

“Who are you?” Zenotha stood and walked over to her. 

“None of your damn business who I am! If you’re going to kill me, just go ahead and do it already. As Mara is my witness, if I didn’t have this hood on I’d spit in your face.”

“Would someone pay to have you killed?” Zenotha rolled her eyes.

“Excuse me? What kind of question is that?” The woman asked shrilly.

“One last time. Would someone. Pay. To have you killed?”

“I’m kneeling here with my hands bound and a sack over my head. What do you think?”

“I suppose you’re right.” Zenotha’s hands lit up in flames. 

“You cut these bindings this instant. Cut them right now!”

“Sure, let me get those for you.” She closed her eyes and set the woman ablaze. The men on either side flinched and leaned away. After a few moments passed, she turned the flames into ice and silenced the woman. She sighed and slowly turned around to face the Dark Brotherhood woman. “There. I killed one of them for you and my debt is repaid.”

“So it is.” The mystery woman tilted her head. “The feisty goodwife. Quite a mouth on her. Someone must have wanted her dead… right?”

“So who was it?” Zenotha clenched her jaw. “Who had the contract on them?”

“Ohh… No. That’s not what’s important. Don’t you understand? Guilt, innocence, right, wrong…. Irrelevant. What matters is I told you to kill… And you obeyed.”

“Wait so am I free to go?” Zenotha glance around the room. She was legitimately expecting a hidden assassin to jump out of the shadows and end it right there. 

“Of course. And you’ve repaid your debt in full. You’ll have no more problems from us. Here’s the key to leave.” The woman popped her knuckles slowly and deliberately. “However I do have a proposition for you. My name is Astrid and I am in charge of the Dark Brotherhood in Skyrim. We’re all fans of your work. Word travels fast in Skyrim, and I know what you did to the assassin who was supposed to fulfill the contract on you. Replace him. I’d like to extend an invitation to join us… my family. In the southwest reaches of Skyrim, in the Pinewood forest, is our home. It’s hidden underneath the road. Find it, and when the Black Door asks you a question, respond with the correct passphrase: ‘Silence, my brother.’ It will make sense when you get there. And your new life will begin. I’ll see you at home.”

Astrid tossed the key at her. She barely caught it and looked down at it. Such an unremarkable key for something that literally was granting her freedom. She looked back up at Astrid, who merely gestured to the door. Not wanting to overstay her welcome with an assassins’ guild leader literally hovering over her, Zenotha bolted from the shack.

She couldn’t wait to explain all of this to Faendal.

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I could have included more in this chapter regarding Aventus but I didn't want to make this super lengthy. I'm trying to capture Zen's personality in writing without it overwhelming the rest of what's going on. I'll figure it out sooner of later!


End file.
